Quiet
by Nina13D
Summary: Natsu Dragneel have always lived with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and who has OCD knows that their mind is always everything but calm. What would happen if suddenly, one day, a pretty young lady came along and made everything just...quiet? -NaLu Modern AU Natsu!OCD Lucy!Doctor Intern-


**Nina's spot:** Hello every body! This is just a little teaser of the story that I want to write! The majority of this is taken from **Neil Hilborn Slam Poetry "OCD"** (that you can find on you tube) that I loved so much I had to write a fan fiction about it! The rest of the chapters will be a lot more original and "mine" but as a teaser I wanted to use Neil poetry to let you know clearly what this story is going to be about. It's going to be intense, I warn you, but I promise it will not be all gloomy and sad, my goal is to try to talk about a love story, as real as possible, seen from a person with OCD point of view and talk about how some love stories can be as hard as beautiful and can have a pleasant ending :3

Oh and, of course, **I do not own any of these characters** , they are born in Hiro Mashima's beautiful mind and for that i'm eternally grateful!

Enjoy the teaser! (Ps. I'm sorry if there's some errors, English is not my first language)

And i remember the day I saw her, it was a warm day of spring and the sun touched her hair, wrapped in a tight pony tail, making it look like a golden sparkling river, sparkling river, sparkling river, sparkling river! I remember that everything in my head just went quiet, all the tics or the constant flashing images in my brain just... disappeared.

When you suffer of obsessive compulsive disorder you don't have the gift of quiet moments, even in the middle of the night, under the warmth comfortable blankets, my mind just thinks: Have I locked the door?  
Did I wash my hands?  
Did I closed the windows?  
But when I saw her the only thing I could think of was the natural curl of her lips or her fingers, that gently lead a rebel lock of hair behind her ear or the eyelash on her cheek, the eyelash on her cheek, the eyelash on her cheek. I knew I had to talk to her, I wouldn't have taken another breath otherwise, I asked her out six times in thirty seconds, she said yes the third time but that didn't felt right so I had to keep going, just like her name, Lucy, that I repeated four times in a sentence before taking another step. On our first date I spent more time organizing my meal in a chromatic order than talking to her or just try to say out loud how I thought she looked magnificent in that blue dress and how her giggle felt brighter than the stars above us, but she... Lucy loved it: she loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times, or twenty-four times if it was Wednesday, she loved that it took me forever to take her home because of those damn cracks on the sidewalk! When we moved in together I told her to feel safe because I was definitely going to check our windows and lock the door at least eighteen times before going to her to sleep. And oh, how I loved to look at her lips while she talked, when she talked, when she talked!  
when she said she loved me the edges of her mouth curled up and on her right cheek a little dimple showed up, I tried to impress that image in my mind for the rest of my days. When we went to sleep she just laid in bed watching me turning the lights on and off, on and off, on and off, on and off like she was captivated by it and, without the need of saying any word, she just smiled. She closed her eyes an imagined the rest of her days passing by...

One morning I started to kiss her but she stopped me because I was making her late for work, when I stopped on a crack of the sidewalk she just kept walking and when she said she loved me her lips formed a suffering trembling line, not a sign of that cute dimple on her cheek. Soon after she said she had to talk to me, I can still remember the tears that streamed down her cheeks when she told that she just couldn't keep going like this, it was too painful. She started sleeping at her parents house telling me that we shouldn't have loved each other that much, it was a mistake, but how could it be a mistake if I didn't wanted to wash my hands after I touched her? How could it be a mistake if I waited to change the sheets because her perfume lull me to sleep? And I can't breath if I think that she could run away because simply I can't... I can't find anybody else, I don't want to! When I'm always thinking about her, my Luce, every second of every day o every week she is inside my head and some times I can swear I can feel her flowing in my bloodstream.

She is been the only beautiful thing I ever got stuck on.

I want to wake every morning and see her bare feet in the kitchen while she pours herself some coffee, look how she gently turns the shower on, like she's opening a safe, look how her white teeth bit the pencil when she was writing the shopping list or how her lips form a little "o" while she blows out the candles, blows out the candles, blows out the candles, blows out the...  
And I can't think about who is kissing her right now, I can't breath if I think that he's only doing it once, he doesn't even care if it's perfect! I want so bad I can't sleep at night and I pour every morning a cup of coffee for her, I want her so bad I let myself lie in the bath-tube more than thirty minutes, I don't even care if my fingers get all wrinkly and fell of my hands. I want her so bad... that I leave the door unlocked every night and the lights on...


End file.
